


Baby It's Cold Outside

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [49]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Service, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Chistmas in the Barton/Coulson household...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Service

Phil had tried to go back to work eight days ago, but Fury wouldn't let him.

"Yes, my ribs are still sore. But that doesn't stop me from sitting at my desk and typing on my computer."

"I don't care. Medical said two full weeks leave and you are going to take two full weeks leave. If I have to, I'll suspend Barton so that he'll be at home to keep you there. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Go home. Relax. Do your Christmas shopping online."

"I always do my Christmas shopping online."

"I know. That's why I always get the strangest novelty pen you can find for Christmas. Go home Phil."

Phil had gone home. 

Now, on December 23rd, he was secretly glad that Fury had insisted, though he wouldn't dare let anyone know, because it had given him the time to plan something special for Clint.

Phil loved doing things for Clint. Just a few years ago, as a workaholic 45-year-old single gay man, he had pretty much given up on finding someone to share his life with. The fact that he had someone to care about, to share things with, to do things for made him happy every day. But that wasn't the only reason that doing things for Clint was special. 

Phil knew about Clint's unhappy childhood. Knew about his time in the circus. Knew about how he'd scrambled to survive on the skills he had after he left the circus, always on the run, always looking over his shoulder. Clint had never had the security of people who cared about him. Never been able to count on a friendly face being there when he needed one. Clint had never even had the routine kindness of co-workers who take you out for lunch and a beer on your birthday, or bring you a doughnut and a coffee back from the commissary, just because they remembered that raspberry-filled was your favourite, or let you have the aisle seat on the plane.

It had broken Phil's heart when he had realized these things about Clint, long before they started going out, when Clint was just starting to trust Phil enough to let him see how much the little things meant to him.

So when they did start dating, Phil made a point of doing every little thing he could think of. At first it was just having Clint's favourite breakfast cereal in stock in the cupboard at his apartment. And Clint's favourite flavour of Gatorade, and frozen pizza in the freezer with the toppings Clint liked. 

When Clint moved in, Phil started doing his laundry for him. Clint had resisted that.

"You don't need to do that, I know how to do laundry."

"It's no trouble, I needed to fill this load anyway, besides the machines in the laundry room are kind of finicky, I'm used to them."

So Clint had gotten used to the basket full of clean clothes appearing on the chair next to his side of the bed. Sometimes he even took them out of the basket and put them into his drawers.

Phil let Clint have the shower first in the morning, so that he could get up and make the coffee. He'd leave a steaming cup on Clint's side of the dresser for him, to drink while he got dressed.

Phil kept on top of the shopping so that the fridge and freezer were always stocked with things Clint liked. When he'd realized, a few months back, that having a cupboard full of canned goods made Clint feel secure (and kicked himself for not figuring that one out sooner), he bought a grocery cart-full and explained that there had been a sale.

Phil had set up a simple filing system for Clint. He had put Clint's name on one drawer of a battered old filing cabinet in his home office. Phil opened the mail as it came in, dealt with all the house-related paperwork and bills out of their shared account, and filed the rest of Clint's mail for him (mostly credit-card statements and work-related paperwork). Anything that needed his actual attention (like his driver's license renewal or changes to his SHIELD benefits) he put in a red file folder that sat on the coffee table in the office. Once Clint had signed whatever he needed to sign, Phil dealt with mailing it. Clint let him get away with doing all of that because Phil was obviously 'in tune with the gods of paperwork and bureaucracy'.

It wasn't that Clint couldn't do these things for himself. Though his approach to laundry, grocery shopping, and paperwork was less... methodical than Phil's, Clint was perfectly competent and always got the job done.

No, Phil did these things because it made him feel good to make Clint's life (which for most of the last 30 years had been unrelentingly hard) a little bit easier. Phil took on the tasks that he knew Clint didn't enjoy, and left him time to do the ones he did.

And so Clint had thrown himself into the little maintenance jobs that the house needed. Handy with a hammer, saw, and paintbrush from his days at the circus when everyone pitched in to build and repair sets, Clint fixed loose boards and sticky windows, plastered over cracks and re-painted chipped moldings. Phil had come home from work one day to find him up on a ladder in the yard, cleaning out the gutters. Clint had climbed down the ladder with a sheepish grin and explained, "I saw the guy across the street doing his last week, so I figured I should do ours."

Phil loved to see how Clint's eyes shone with pride as he completed each small home repair project.

Now, thanks to three cracked ribs from a blown op and Fury insisting that he take time off, Phil was going to give Clint a Christmas.

It was their second Christmas together, but the first one they would be able to celebrate properly - last year they had spent the 24th flying a Quinjet out of Kazakhstan, the 25th briefing an extraction team and the 26th and 27th mounting a rescue op. They had exchanged gifts in mid-January after they'd both been released from Medical...

This year Phil was determined to make up for it, and to make their first Christmas in their new home special. He had spent most of the past week online, ordering not only Christmas presents, but, well, Christmas.

He'd ordered Christmas dinner (frozen stuffed rolled turkey breast, frozen roast potatoes, Brussels sprouts, candied carrots, and three kinds of pie) from Trader Joe's. Neither of them were very good cooks, but Phil could follow the instructions printed on a box accurately enough to produce a decent meal. The basket of goodies that arrived from his two sisters every year rounded out the holiday fare with cheeses, smoked salmon, crackers, fancy olives, cookies, and flavoured coffee and hot chocolate. 

Their local liquor store delivered, so a phone call had yielded two cases of mixed holiday-themed local craft beer, a couple of bottles of wine, and a bottle of Bailey's. 

He'd spent hours on the Macy's website, shopping for a few small decorations and a large number of Christmas tree ornaments. 

The tree had him stumped. He could have ordered an artificial one, of course, but he had his heart set on a real tree. He decided that he'd tell Clint he wanted one tonight when he got home, and they could go buy one together tomorrow. There would be a vendor somewhere within walking distance, and Phil was pretty sure Clint wouldn't mind carrying a Christmas tree home over his shoulder. 

The doorbell rang and Phil went to answer it, assuming it was the UPS truck again, and opened it to find two teenagers in Boy Scout uniform on his doorstep, and a pickup truck filled with Christmas trees idling in the street.

"We're selling trees to raise money for the food bank, mister. Do you want to buy one?"

Problem solved. The Boy Scouts had even carried it into the house and helped him secure it in the stand.

Phil looked at his watch. Clint was due home in a couple of hours. Phil scurried around the house, making a few final preparations. He put out a plate of cheese and crackers, and another of cookies. He found a radio station playing relatively inoffensive instrumental versions of Christmas carols. He put the holly and birch table centerpiece he had bought on the dining room table and lit the candles in it. He brushed his teeth and his hair and changed into a clean shirt. 

Then he got himself a beer, stacked the boxes of Christmas ornaments on the sofa, and started to decorate the tree, humming quietly to himself as he did. Which is how Clint found him, when he got home. 

Clint stopped dead when he walked into the living room. Phil looked over,

"Don't worry, I didn't carry it. Some Boy Scouts were selling them door to door. For charity. They brought it in and set it up for me." Phil waited for Clint to say something. Or to move.

Eventually Clint unglued himself from the doorway and came into the room, glancing around, his sharp eyes taking in everything. He walked up behind Phil, put his arms around him gently, and leaned his chin on Phil's shoulder.

"You did all this for me."

"And for us. I wanted us to have a nice Christmas."

"Just curling up on the sofa with you and watching some cheesy Christmas movie would have been enough to make it the best Christmas of my life. You didn't need to do all this."

"I know. But I wanted to."

"Thank you." Clint's voice was tight, and Phil wondered if maybe he'd done too much, gone too far. "I love it, Phil. Thank you."

"Good. I'll go get you a beer, and you can help me finish decorating the tree. Then we can curl up on the sofa and watch whatever cheesy Christmas movie is on."

"Sounds perfect."

And it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to my excellent editors t! and Shazrolane.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


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